THE year that followed was the saddest Christie had ever known,for she suffered a sort of poverty which is more difficult to bearthan actual want, since money cannot lighten it, and the rarestcharity alone can minister to it. Her heart was empty and she couldnot fill it; her soul was hungry and she could not feed it; life wascold and dark and she could not warm and brighten it, for she knewnot where to go.
She tried to help herself by all the means in her power, and wheneffort after effort failed she said: "I am not good enough yet todeserve happiness. I think too much of human love, too little ofdivine. When I have made God my friend perhaps He will let me findand keep one heart to make life happy with. How shall I know God?
Who will tell me where to find Him, and help me to love and leanupon Him as I ought?"In all sincerity1 she asked these questions, in all sincerity shebegan her search, and with pathetic patience waited for an answer.
She read many books, some wise, some vague, some full ofsuperstition, all unsatisfactory to one who wanted a living God. Shewent to many churches, studied many creeds2, and watched their fruitsas well as she could; but still remained unsatisfied. Some were coldand narrow, some seemed theatrical4 and superficial, some stern andterrible, none simple, sweet, and strong enough for humanity's manyneeds. There was too much machinery5, too many walls, laws, andpenalties between the Father and His children. Too much fear, toolittle love; too many saints and intercessors; too little faith inthe instincts of the soul which turns to God as flowers to the sun.
Too much idle strife7 about names and creeds; too little knowledge ofthe natural religion which has no name but godliness, whose creed3 isboundless and benignant as the sunshine, whose faith is as thetender trust of little children in their mother's love.
Nowhere did Christie find this all-sustaining power, this paternalfriend, and comforter, and after months of patient searching shegave up her quest, saying, despondently8:
"I'm afraid I never shall get religion, for all that's offered meseems so poor, so narrow, or so hard that I cannot take it for mystay. A God of wrath9 I cannot love; a God that must be propitiated,adorned, and adored like an idol10 I cannot respect; and a God who canbe blinded to men's iniquities11 through the week by a little beatingof the breast and bowing down on the seventh day, I cannot serve. Iwant a Father to whom I can go with all my sins and sorrows, all myhopes and joys, as freely and fearlessly as I used to go to my humanfather, sure of help and sympathy and love. Shall I ever find Him?"Alas12, poor Christie! she was going through the sorrowful perplexitythat comes to so many before they learn that religion cannot begiven or bought, but must grow as trees grow, needing frost andsnow, rain and wind to strengthen it before it is deep-rooted in thesoul; that God is in the hearts of all, and they that seek shallsurely find Him when they need Him most.
So Christie waited for religion to reveal itself to her, and whileshe waited worked with an almost desperate industry, trying to buy alittle happiness for herself by giving a part of her earnings13 tothose whose needs money could supply. She clung to her little room,for there she could live her own life undisturbed, and preferred tostint herself in other ways rather than give up this liberty. Dayafter day she sat there sewing health of mind and body into the longseams or dainty stitching that passed through her busy hands, andwhile she sewed she thought sad, bitter, oftentimes rebelliousthoughts.
It was the worst life she could have led just then, for, deprived ofthe active, cheerful influences she most needed, her mind preyed14 onitself, slowly and surely, preparing her for the dark experience tocome. She knew that there was fitter work for her somewhere, but howto find it was a problem which wiser women have often failed tosolve. She was no pauper15, yet was one of those whom poverty sets atodds with the world, for favors burden and dependence16 makes thebread bitter unless love brightens the one and sweetens the other.
There are many Christies, willing to work, yet unable to bear thecontact with coarser natures which makes labor18 seem degrading, or toendure the hard struggle for the bare necessities of life when lifehas lost all that makes it beautiful. People wonder when such as shesay they can find little to do; but to those who know nothing of thepangs of pride, the sacrifices of feeling, the martyrdoms of youth,love, hope, and ambition that go on under the faded cloaks of thesepoor gentle-women, who tell them to go into factories, or scrub inkitchens, for there is work enough for all, the most convincinganswer would be, "Try it."Christie kept up bravely till a wearisome low fever broke bothstrength and spirit, and brought the weight of debt upon her whenleast fitted to bear or cast it off. For the first time she began tofeel that she had nerves which would rebel, and a heart that couldnot long endure isolation19 from its kind without losing the cheerfulcourage which hitherto had been her staunchest friend. Perfect rest,kind care, and genial20 society were the medicines she needed, butthere was no one to minister to her, and she went blindly on alongthe road so many women tread.
She left her bed too soon, fearing to ask too much of the busypeople who had done their best to be neighborly. She returned to herwork when it felt heavy in her feeble hands, for debt made idlenessseem wicked to her conscientious21 mind. And, worst of all, she fellback into the bitter, brooding mood which had become habitual22 to hersince she lived alone. While the tired hands slowly worked, theweary brain ached and burned with heavy thoughts, vain longings24, andfeverish fancies, till things about her sometimes seemed as strangeand spectral25 as the phantoms26 that had haunted her half-delirioussleep. Inexpressibly wretched were the dreary28 days, the restlessnights, with only pain and labor for companions. The world lookedvery dark to her, life seemed an utter failure, God a delusion29, andthe long, lonely years before her too hard to be endured.
It is not always want, insanity30, or sin that drives women todesperate deaths; often it is a dreadful loneliness of heart, ahunger for home and friends, worse than starvation, a bitter senseof wrong in being denied the tender ties, the pleasant duties, thesweet rewards that can make the humblest life happy; a rebelliousprotest against God, who, when they cry for bread, seems to offerthem a stone. Some of these impatient souls throw life away, andlearn too late how rich it might have been with a stronger faith, amore submissive spirit. Others are kept, and slowly taught to standand wait, till blest with a happiness the sweeter for the doubt thatwent before.
There came a time to Christie when the mist about her was so thickshe would have stumbled and fallen had not the little candle, keptalight by her own hand, showed her how far "a good deed shines in anaughty world;" and when God seemed utterly32 forgetful of her He senta friend to save and comfort her.
March winds were whistling among the house-tops, and the sky wasdarkening with a rainy twilight33 as Christie folded up her finishedwork, stretched her weary limbs, and made ready for her daily walk.
Even this was turned to profit, for then she took home her work,went in search of more, and did her own small marketing34. As latehours and unhealthy labor destroyed appetite, and unpaid35 debts madeeach mouthful difficult to swallow with Mrs. Flint's hard eye uponher, she had undertaken to supply her own food, and so lessen36 theobligation that burdened her. An unwise retrenchment37, for, busiedwith the tasks that must be done, she too often neglected ordeferred the meals to which no society lent interest, no appetitegave flavor; and when the fuel was withheld38 the fire began to dieout spark by spark.
As she stood before the little mirror, smoothing the hair upon herforehead, she watched the face reflected there, wondering if itcould be the same she used to see so full of youth and hope andenergy.
"Yes, I'm growing old; my youth is nearly over, and at thirty Ishall be a faded, dreary woman, like so many I see and pity. It'shard to come to this after trying so long to find my place, and domy duty. I'm a failure after all, and might as well have stayed withAunt Betsey or married Joe.""Miss Devon, to-day is Saturday, and I'm makin' up my bills, so I'lltrouble you for your month's board, and as much on the old accountas you can let me have."Mrs. Flint spoke39, and her sharp voice rasped the silence like afile, for she had entered without knocking, and her demand was thefirst intimation of her presence.
Christie turned slowly round, for there was no elasticity40 in hermotions now; through the melancholy41 anxiety her face always wore oflate, there came the worried look of one driven almost beyondendurance, and her hands began to tremble nervously42 as she tied onher bonnet43. Mrs. Flint was a hard woman, and dunned her debtorsrelentlessly; Christie dreaded44 the sight of her, and would have leftthe house had she been free of debt.
"I am just going to take these things home and get more work. I amsure of being paid, and you shall have all I get. But, for Heaven'ssake, give me time."Two days and a night of almost uninterrupted labor had given asevere strain to her nerves, and left her in a dangerous state.
Something in her face arrested Mrs. Flint's attention; she observedthat Christie was putting on her best cloak and hat, and to hersuspicious eye the bundle of work looked unduly45 large.
It had been a hard day for the poor woman, for the cook had gone offin a huff; the chamber46 girl been detected in petty larceny47; twodesirable boarders had disappointed her; and the incapable48 husbandhad fallen ill, so it was little wonder that her soul was tried, hersharp voice sharper, and her sour temper sourer than ever.
"I have heard of folks putting on their best things and going out,but never coming back again, when they owed money. It's a meantrick, but it's sometimes done by them you wouldn't think it of,"she said, with an aggravating49 sniff50 of intelligence.
To be suspected of dishonesty was the last drop in Christie's fullcup. She looked at the woman with a strong desire to do somethingviolent, for every nerve was tingling51 with irritation52 and anger. Butshe controlled herself, though her face was colorless and her handswere more tremulous than before. Unfastening her comfortable cloakshe replaced it with a shabby shawl; took off her neat bonnet andput on a hood53, unfolded six linen54 shirts, and shook them out beforeher landlady's eyes; then retied the parcel, and, pausing on thethreshold of the door, looked back with an expression that hauntedthe woman long afterward55, as she said, with the quiver of strongexcitement in her voice:
"Mrs. Flint, I have always dealt honorably by you; I always mean todo it, and don't deserve to be suspected of dishonesty like that. Ileave every thing I own behind me, and if I don't come back, you cansell them all and pay yourself, for I feel now as if I never wantedto see you or this room again."Then she went rapidly away, supported by her indignation, for shehad done her best to pay her debts; had sold the few trinkets shepossessed, and several treasures given by the Carrols, to settle herdoctor's bill, and had been half killing56 herself to satisfy Mrs.
Flint's demands. The consciousness that she had been too lavish57 inher generosity58 when fortune smiled upon her, made the present wantall the harder to bear. But she would neither beg nor borrow, thoughshe knew Harry59 would delight to give, and Uncle Enos lend her money,with a lecture on extravagance, gratis60.
"I'll paddle my own canoe as long as I can," she said, sternly; "andwhen I must ask help I'll turn to strangers for it, or scuttle61 myboat, and go down without troubling any one."When she came to her employer's door, the servant said: "Missis wasout;" then seeing Christie's disappointed face, she added,confidentially:
"If it's any comfort to know it, I can tell you that missis wouldn'thave paid you if she had a been to home. There's been three otherwomen here with work, and she's put 'em all off. She always does,and beats 'em down into the bargain, which ain't genteel to mythinkin'.""She promised me I should be well paid for these, because Iundertook to get them done without fail. I've worked day and nightrather than disappoint her, and felt sure of my money," saidChristie, despondently.
"I'm sorry, but you won't get it. She told me to tell you yourprices was too high, and she could find folks to work cheaper.""She did not object to the price when I took the work, and I havehalf-ruined my eyes over the fine stitching. See if it isn't nicelydone." And Christie displayed her exquisite63 needlework with pride.
The girl admired it, and, having a grievance65 of her own, tooksatisfaction in berating66 her mistress.
"It's a shame! These things are part of a present, the ladies aregoing to give the minister; but I don't believe he'll feel easy in'em if poor folks is wronged to get 'em. Missis won't pay what theyare worth, I know; for, don't you see, the cheaper the work is done,the more money she has to make a spread with her share of thepresent? It's my opinion you'd better hold on to these shirts tillshe pays for 'em handsome.""No; I'll keep my promise, and I hope she will keep hers. Tell her Ineed the money very much, and have worked very hard to please her.
I'll come again on Monday, if I'm able."Christie's lips trembled as she spoke, for she was feeble still, andthe thought of that hard-earned money had been her sustaining hopethrough the weary hours spent over that ill-paid work. The girl said"Good-bye," with a look of mingled68 pity and respect, for in her eyesthe seamstress was more of a lady than the mistress in thistransaction.
Christie hurried to another place, and asked eagerly if the youngladies had any work for her. "Not a stitch," was the reply, and thedoor closed. She stood a moment looking down upon the passers-bywondering what answer she would get if she accosted69 any one; and hadany especially benevolent70 face looked back at her she would havebeen tempted71 to do it, so heart-sick and forlorn did she feel justthen.
She knocked at several other doors, to receive the same reply. Sheeven tried a slop-shop, but it was full, and her pale face wasagainst her. Her long illness had lost her many patrons, and if onesteps out from the ranks of needle-women, it is very hard to pressin again, so crowded are they, and so desperate the need of money.
One hope remained, and, though the way was long, and a foggy drizzlehad set in, she minded neither distance nor the chilly72 rain, buthurried away with anxious thoughts still dogging her steps. Across along bridge, through muddy roads and up a stately avenue she went,pausing, at last, spent and breathless at another door.
A servant with a wedding-favor in his button-hole opened to her,and, while he went to deliver her urgent message, she peered inwistfully from the dreary world without, catching73 glimpses ofhome-love and happiness that made her heart ache for very pity ofits own loneliness. A wedding was evidently afoot, for hall andstaircase blazed with light and bloomed with flowers. Smiling menand maids ran to and fro; opening doors showed tables beautiful withbridal white and silver; savory74 odors filled the air; gay voicesechoed above and below; and once she caught a brief glance at thebonny bride, standing75 with her father's arm about her, while hermother gave some last, loving touch to her array; and a group ofyoung sisters with April faces clustered round her.
The pretty picture vanished all too soon; the man returned with ahurried "No" for answer, and Christie went out into the deepeningtwilight with a strange sense of desperation at her heart. It wasnot the refusal, not the fear of want, nor the reaction of overtaxednerves alone; it was the sharpness of the contrast between thatother woman's fate and her own that made her wring76 her handstogether, and cry out, bitterly:
"Oh, it isn't fair, it isn't right, that she should have so much andI so little! What have I ever done to be so desolate77 and miserable,and never to find any happiness, however hard I try to do what seemsmy duty?"There was no answer, and she went slowly down the long avenue,feeling that there was no cause for hurry now, and even night andrain and wind were better than her lonely room or Mrs. Flint'scomplaints. Afar off the city lights shone faintly through the fog,like pale lamps seen in dreams; the damp air cooled her feverishcheeks; the road was dark and still, and she longed to lie down andrest among the sodden78 leaves.
When she reached the bridge she saw the draw was up, and a spectralship was slowly passing through. With no desire to mingle67 in thecrowd that waited on either side, she paused, and, leaning on therailing, let her thoughts wander where they would. As she stoodthere the heavy air seemed to clog79 her breath and wrap her in itschilly arms. She felt as if the springs of life were running down,and presently would stop; for, even when the old question, "Whatshall I do?" came haunting her, she no longer cared even to try toanswer it, and had no feeling but one of utter weariness. She triedto shake off the strange mood that was stealing over her, but spentbody and spent brain were not strong enough to obey her will, and,in spite of her efforts to control it, the impulse that had seizedher grew more intense each moment.
"Why should I work and suffer any longer for myself alone?" shethought; "why wear out my life struggling for the bread I have noheart to eat? I am not wise enough to find my place, nor patientenough to wait until it comes to me. Better give up trying, andleave room for those who have something to live for."Many a stronger soul has known a dark hour when the importunate80 wishhas risen that it were possible and right to lay down the burdensthat oppress, the perplexities that harass81, and hasten the coming ofthe long sleep that needs no lullaby. Such an hour was this toChristie, for, as she stood there, that sorrowful bewilderment whichwe call despair came over her, and ruled her with a power she couldnot resist.
A flight of steps close by led to a lumber82 wharf83, and, scarcelyknowing why, she went down there, with a vague desire to sit stillsomewhere, and think her way out of the mist that seemed to obscureher mind. A single tall lamp shone at the farther end of theplatform, and presently she found herself leaning her hot foreheadagainst the iron pillar, while she watched with curious interest theblack water rolling sluggishly84 below.
She knew it was no place for her, yet no one waited for her, no onewould care if she staid for ever, and, yielding to the perilousfascination that drew her there, she lingered with a heavy throbbingin her temples, and a troop of wild fancies whirling through herbrain. Something white swept by below,--only a broken oar17--but shebegan to wonder how a human body would look floating through thenight. It was an awesome85 fancy, but it took possession of her, and,as it grew, her eyes dilated86, her breath came fast, and her lipsfell apart, for she seemed to see the phantom27 she had conjured87 up,and it wore the likeness88 of herself.
With an ominous89 chill creeping through her blood, and a growingtumult in her mind, she thought, "I must go," but still stoodmotionless, leaning over the wide gulf90, eager to see where that deadthing would pass away. So plainly did she see it, so peaceful wasthe white face, so full of rest the folded hands, so strangely like,and yet unlike, herself, that she seemed to lose her identity, andwondered which was the real and which the imaginary Christie. Lowerand lower she bent91; looser and looser grew her hold upon the pillar;faster and faster beat the pulses in her temples, and the rush ofsome blind impulse was swiftly coming on, when a hand seized andcaught her back.
For an instant every thing grew black before her eyes, and the earthseemed to slip away from underneath92 her feet. Then she was herselfagain, and found that she was sitting on a pile of lumber, with herhead uncovered, and a woman's arm about her.
THE RESCUE.
"Was I going to drown myself?" she asked, slowly, with a fancy thatshe had been dreaming frightfully, and some one had wakened her.
"You were most gone; but I came in time, thank God! O Christie!
don't you know me?"Ah! no fear of that; for with one bewildered look, one glad cry ofrecognition, Christie found her friend again, and was gathered closeto Rachel's heart.
"My dear, my dear, what drove you to it? Tell me all, and let mehelp you in your trouble, as you helped me in mine," she said, asshe tenderly laid the poor, white face upon her breast, and wrappedher shawl about the trembling figure clinging to her with suchpassionate delight.
"I have been ill; I worked too hard; I'm not myself to-night. I owemoney. People disappoint and worry me; and I was so worn out, andweak, and wicked, I think I meant to take my life.""No, dear; it was not you that meant to do it, but the weakness andthe trouble that bewildered you. Forget it all, and rest a little,safe with me; then we'll talk again."Rachel spoke soothingly93, for Christie shivered and sighed as if herown thoughts frightened her. For a moment they sat silent, while themist trailed its white shroud94 above them, as if death had paused tobeckon a tired child away, but, finding her so gently cradled on awarm, human heart, had relented and passed on, leaving no waif butthe broken oar for the river to carry toward the sea.
"Tell me about yourself, Rachel. Where have you been so long? I 'velooked and waited for you ever since the second little note you sentme on last Christinas; but you never came.""I've been away, dear heart, hard at work in another city, largerand wickeder than this. I tried to get work here, that I might benear you; but that cruel Cotton always found me out; and I was soafraid I should get desperate that I went away where I was notknown. There it came into my mind to do for others more wretchedthan I what you had done for me. God put the thought into my heart,and He helped me in my work, for it has prospered95 wonderfully. Allthis year I have been busy with it, and almost happy; for I feltthat your love made me strong to do it, and that, in time, I mightgrow good enough to be your friend.""See what I am, Rachel, and never say that any more!""Hush96, my poor dear, and let me talk. You are not able to do anything, but rest, and listen. I knew how many poor souls went wrongwhen the devil tempted them; and I gave all my strength to savingthose who were going the way I went. I had no fear, no shame toovercome, for I was one of them. They would listen to me, for I knewwhat I spoke; they could believe in salvation97, for I was saved; theydid not feel so outcast and forlorn when I told them you had takenme into your innocent arms, and loved me like a sister. With everyone I helped my power increased, and I felt as if I had washed awaya little of my own great sin. O Christie! never think it's time todie till you are called; for the Lord leaves us till we have doneour work, and never sends more sin and sorrow than we can bear andbe the better for, if we hold fast by Him."So beautiful and brave she looked, so full of strength and yet ofmeek submission98 was her voice, that Christie's heart was thrilled;for it was plain that Rachel had learned how to distil99 balm from thebitterness of life, and, groping in the mire64 to save lost souls, hadfound her own salvation there.
"Show me how to grow pious100, strong, and useful, as you are," shesaid. "I am all wrong, and feel as if I never could get right again,for I haven't energy enough to care what becomes of me.""I know the state, Christie: I've been through it all! but when Istood where you stand now, there was no hand to pull me back, and Ifell into a blacker river than this underneath our feet. Thank God,I came in time to save you from either death!""How did you find me?" asked Christie, when she had echoed in herheart the thanksgiving that came with such fervor101 from the other'slips.
"I passed you on the bridge. I did not see your face, but you stoodleaning there so wearily, and looking down into the water, as I usedto look, that I wanted to speak, but did not; and I went on tocomfort a poor girl who is dying yonder. Something turned me back,however; and when I saw you down here I knew why I was sent. Youwere almost gone, but I kept you; and when I had you in my arms Iknew you, though it nearly broke my heart to find you here. Now,dear, come home.
"Home! ah, Rachel, I've got no home, and for want of one I shall belost!"The lament102 that broke from her was more pathetic than the tears thatstreamed down, hot and heavy, melting from her heart the frost ofher despair. Her friend let her weep, knowing well the worth oftears, and while Christie sobbed103 herself quiet, Rachel took thoughtfor her as tenderly as any mother.
When she had heard the story of Christie's troubles, she stood up asif inspired with a happy thought, and stretching both hands to herfriend, said, with an air of cheerful assurance most comforting tosee:
"I'll take care of you; come with me, my poor Christie, and I'llgive you a home, very humble31, but honest and happy.""With you, Rachel?""No, dear, I must go back to my work, and you are not fit for that.
Neither must you go again to your own room, because for you it ishaunted, and the worst place you could be in. You want change, andI'll give you one. It will seem queer at first, but it is awholesome place, and just what you need.""I'll do any thing you tell me. I'm past thinking for myselfto-night, and only want to be taken care of till I find strength andcourage enough to stand alone," said Christie, rising slowly andlooking about her with an aspect as helpless and hopeless as if thecloud of mist was a wall of iron.
Rachel put on her bonnet for her and wrapped her shawl about her,saying, in a tender voice, that warmed the other's heart:
"Close by lives a dear, good woman who often befriends such as youand I. She will take you in without a question, and love to do it,for she is the most hospitable104 soul I know. Just tell her you wantwork, that I sent you, and there will be no trouble. Then, when youknow her a little, confide62 in her, and you will never come to such apass as this again. Keep up your heart, dear; I'll not leave youtill you are safe."So cheerily she spoke, so confident she looked, that the lostexpression passed from Christie's face, and hand in hand they wentaway together,--two types of the sad sisterhood standing on eithershore of the dark river that is spanned by a Bridge of Sighs.
Rachel led her friend toward the city, and, coming to the mechanics'
quarter, stopped before the door of a small, old house.
"Just knock, say 'Rachel sent me,' and you'll find yourself athome.""Stay with me, or let me go with you. I can't lose you again, for Ineed you very much," pleaded Christie, clinging to her friend.
"Not so much as that poor girl dying all alone. She's waiting forme, and I must go. But I'll write soon; and remember, Christie, Ishall feel as if I had only paid a very little of my debt if you goback to the sad old life, and lose your faith and hope again. Godbless and keep you, and when we meet next time let me find a happierface than this."Rachel kissed it with her heart on her lips, smiled her brave sweetsmile, and vanished in the mist.
Pausing a moment to collect herself, Christie recollected105 that shehad not asked the name of the new friend whose help she was about toask. A little sign on the door caught her eye, and, bending down,she managed to read by the dim light of the street lamp these words:
"Laces done up in the best style."Too tired to care whether a laundress or a lady took her in, sheknocked timidly, and, while she waited for an answer to her summons,stood listening to the noises within.
A swashing sound as of water was audible, likewise a scuffling as offlying feet; some one clapped hands, and a voice said, warningly,"Into your beds this instant minute or I'll come to you! AndrewJackson, give Gusty107 a boost; Ann Lizy, don't you tech Wash's feet totickle 'em. Set pretty in the tub, Victory, dear, while ma seeswho's rappin'.""C. WILKINS, CLEAR STARCHER."Then heavy footsteps approached, the door opened wide, and a largewoman appeared, with fuzzy red hair, no front teeth, and a plump,clean face, brightly illuminated108 by the lamp she carried.
"If you please, Rachel sent me. She thought you might be able"--Christie got no further, for C. Wilkins put out a strong bare arm,still damp, and gently drew her in, saying, with the same motherlytone as when addressing her children, "Come right in, dear, anddon't mind the clutter109 things is in. I'm givin' the children theirSat'day scrubbin', and they will slop and kite 'round, no matter efI do spank110 'em."Talking all the way in such an easy, comfortable voice that Christiefelt as if she must have heard it before, Mrs. Wilkins led herunexpected guest into a small kitchen, smelling suggestively ofsoap-suds and warm flat-irons. In the middle of this apartment was alarge tub; in the tub a chubby111 child sat, sucking a sponge andstaring calmly at the new-comer with a pair of big blue eyes, whilelittle drops shone in the yellow curls and on the rosy112 shoulders.
"How pretty!" cried Christie, seeing nothing else and stopping shortto admire this innocent little Venus rising from the sea.
"So she is! Ma's darlin' lamb! and ketehin' her death a cold thisblessed minnit. Set right down, my dear, and tuck your wet feet intothe oven. I'll have a dish o' tea for you in less 'n no time; andwhile it's drawin' I'll clap Victory Adelaide into her bed."Christie sank into a shabby but most hospitable old chair, droppedher bonnet on the floor, put her feet in the oven, and, leaningback, watched Mrs. Wilkins wipe the baby as if she had come for thatespecial purpose. As Rachel predicted, she found herself, at home atonce, and presently was startled to hear a laugh from her own lipswhen several children in red and yellow flannel113 night-gowns dartedlike meteors across the open doorway114 of an adjoining room, withwhoops and howls, bursts of laughter, and antics of all sorts.
How pleasant it was; that plain room, with no ornaments115 but thehappy faces, no elegance116, but cleanliness, no wealth, buthospitality and lots of love. This latter blessing117 gave the placeits charm, for, though Mrs. Wilkins threatened to take her infants'
noses off if they got out of bed again, or "put 'em in the kettleand bile 'em" they evidently knew no fear, but gambolled118 all thenearer to her for the threat; and she beamed upon them with suchmaternal tenderness and pride that her homely119 face grew beautiful inChristie's eyes.
When the baby was bundled up in a blanket and about to be set downbefore the stove to simmer a trifle before being put to bed,Christie held out her arms, saying with an irresistible120 longing23 inher eyes and voice:
"Let me hold her! I love babies dearly, and it seems as if it woulddo me more good than quarts of tea to cuddle her, if she'll let me.""There now, that's real sensible; and mother's bird'll set alongwith you as good as a kitten. Toast her tootsies wal, for she'scroupy, and I have to be extra choice of her.""How good it feels!" sighed Christie, half devouring121 the warm androsy little bunch in her lap, while baby lay back luxuriously,spreading her pink toes to the pleasant warmth and smiling sleepilyup in the hungry face that hung over her.
Mrs. Wilkins's quick eyes saw it all, and she said to herself, inthe closet, as she cut bread and rattled122 down a cup and saucer:
"That's what she wants, poor creeter; I'll let her have a right nicetime, and warm and feed and chirk her up, and then I'll see what'sto be done for her. She ain't one of the common sort, and goodnessonly knows what Rachel sent her here for. She's poor and sick, butshe ain't bad. I can tell that by her face, and she's the sort Ilike to help. It's a mercy I ain't eat my supper, so she can havethat bit of meat and the pie."Putting a tray on the little table, the good soul set forth123 all shehad to give, and offered it with such hospitable warmth thatChristie ate and drank with unaccustomed appetite, finishing offdeliciously with a kiss from baby before she was borne away by hermother to the back bedroom, where peace soon reigned124.
"Now let me tell you who I am, and how I came to you in such anunceremonious way," began Christie, when her hostess returned andfound her warmed, refreshed, and composed by a woman's three bestcomforters,--kind words, a baby, and a cup of tea.
"'Pears to me, dear, I wouldn't rile myself up by telling anywerryments to-night, but git right warm inter6 bed, and have a goodlong sleep," said Mrs. Wilkins, without a ray of curiosity in herwholesome red face.
"But you don't know any thing about me, and I may be the worst womanin the world," cried Christie, anxious to prove herself worthy125 ofsuch confidence.
"I know that you want takin' care of, child, or Rachel wouldn't asent you. Ef I can help any one, I don't want no introduction; andef you be the wust woman in the world (which you ain't), I wouldn'tshet my door on you, for then you'd need a lift more'n you do now."Christie could only put out her hand, and mutely thank her newfriend with full eyes.
"You're fairly tuckered out, you poor soul, so you jest come rightup chamber and let me tuck you up, else you'll be down sick. Itain't a mite126 of inconvenience; the room is kep for company, and it'sall ready, even to a clean night-cap. I'm goin' to clap this warmflat to your feet when you're fixed127; it's amazin' comfortin' andkeeps your head cool."Up they went to a tidy little chamber, and Christie found herselflaid down to rest none too soon, for she was quite worn out. Sleepbegan to steal over her the moment her head touched the pillow, inspite of the much beruffled cap which Mrs. Wilkins put on withvisible pride in its stiffly crimped borders. She was dimlyconscious of a kind hand tucking her up, a comfortable voice purringover her, and, best of all, a motherly good-night kiss, then theweary world faded quite away and she was at rest.
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1
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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inter
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| v.埋葬 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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despondently
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| adv.沮丧地，意志消沉地 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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iniquities
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| n.邪恶( iniquity的名词复数 )；极不公正 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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preyed
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| v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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31
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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marketing
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| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
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unpaid
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| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
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lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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retrenchment
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| n.节省，删除 | |
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withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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43
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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44
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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larceny
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| n.盗窃（罪） | |
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48
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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50
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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51
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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52
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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53
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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54
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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55
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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56
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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57
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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58
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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59
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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gratis
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| adj.免费的 | |
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61
scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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62
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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63
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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64
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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66
berating
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| v.严厉责备，痛斥( berate的现在分词 ) | |
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67
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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69
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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70
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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71
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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72
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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73
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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savory
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| adj.风味极佳的，可口的，味香的 | |
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75
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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76
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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77
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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78
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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80
importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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81
harass
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| vt.使烦恼，折磨，骚扰 | |
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82
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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83
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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84
sluggishly
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| adv.懒惰地；缓慢地 | |
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awesome
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| adj.令人惊叹的，难得吓人的，很好的 | |
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86
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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88
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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91
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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92
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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93
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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94
shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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98
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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distil
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| vt.蒸馏；提取…的精华，精选出 | |
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100
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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101
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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102
lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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103
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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104
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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105
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
starcher
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| 搜索者，检查官 | |
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107
gusty
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| adj.起大风的 | |
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108
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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109
clutter
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| n.零乱，杂乱；vt.弄乱，把…弄得杂乱 | |
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110
spank
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| v.打，拍打(在屁股上) | |
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111
chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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112
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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113
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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114
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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115
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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116
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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117
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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118
gambolled
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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119
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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120
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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121
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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122
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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123
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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124
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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125
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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126
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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